


Mirrors

by God_of_Insanity



Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Gift Fic, M/M, Minor Character Death, No Sex, Normal Clothes, One Shot, Sane Sephiroth (Compilation of FFVII), Scarred Up Vincent, Sexual Tension, Vincent Doesn't Wear His Canon Outfit, Yaoi, m/m - Freeform, some frottage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-27
Updated: 2019-05-27
Packaged: 2020-03-20 16:03:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18995935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/God_of_Insanity/pseuds/God_of_Insanity
Summary: In the Shinra Mansion, instead of finding madness, Sephiroth finds his kindred spirit.





	Mirrors

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Amable](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amable/gifts).



> Gift Fic for Malind. <3

 

**Shinra Mansion**

_What are you going to do?_

That was a fair question, he thought. It was the same question that had been plaguing his mind since he’d reluctantly left his crypt. And it was all because a man far too beautiful for his own good had woken him up despite his wishes to be left alone. Said man had opened his casket and peered down curiously at his still, naked form without fear. Even with his eyes closed, he could feel those bright, intelligent eyes raking over every inch of him. Whether he was judging him, or merely trying to assess his condition, Vincent didn’t know or care. He was used to being stared at like freak in a freakshow. More than anything else, he was used to being judged.

So when he did finally open his eyes, he regretted it immensely. Because before him, leaned over the casket, was a god. A god without judgement, oddly enough. He should have seen disgust in those eyes, or even hatred, but he saw nothing in those tortured eyes that he deserved.

What he did see, was _understanding_. And that made him want to cry.

Vincent didn’t actually cry, of course, but he felt the emotions writhing in his chest while water threatened to leak from his normally dry eyes. He didn’t know who this man was, or why he was here. There was something about this young man that felt strangely familiar to him and he didn’t know why. But what he did know was that he wanted to _know_ this man in whatever way he’d allow him. Even if Vincent didn’t deserve to know someone like him.

A sudden noise made the god-like man jerk upwards and look over his shoulder behind him. He cast one look back at Vincent and before he’d hastily departed, he had posed that perplexing question to Vincent: _What are you going to do?_

A question that could be so simple, and at times, could be the hardest one to answer. And it was. Vincent didn’t know what he was going to do. Even as changed as he was, as _defective_ , some things in him still remained the same. Instead of acting when he should, he’d often stalled his actions and decisions. It was easier just to brood and to avoid people instead of dealing with them. Although he wasn’t shy, he was still an introverted person and had been since he was a child. That hadn’t changed about him, though what he’d gone through to become what he was now, only made his aversion to people that much more severe. The only times he’d broken out of his shell was when it involved something personal to him, and even then, he wasn’t always quick to act. Which was largely why he still sat upright in his casket contemplating his next course of action.

For many years, too many for him to remember, he’d done absolutely fucking _nothing_. He’d attempted to lie to himself and claim that he was atoning for his sins, but in reality, he was just taking the easy way out. Instead of facing the world and dealing with his problems head on, he had opted to be a self-depreciating coward drowning in self-pity. It was ironic because his sin had been about doing nothing and here he was, doing nothing to atone for that particular sin. Now that he truly thought about it, it made absolutely no sense. It was like trying to put out fire with fire. Such a thing just didn’t work and he saw that now.

Others had attempted to rouse him from his self-made grave, but he’d always refused them before. Until now. The difference being now...was the one to disturb his long sleep of neverending nightmares, was someone with nightmares plaguing his own eyes. Someone...that could understand. Someone that could possibly be a kindred spirit.

He didn’t know how he knew that, but he just felt it. There was a pull there, a pull that made him want to actually leave his own prison after so many years of wasting away. He could see past all of his own bullshit now and knew he needed to do something, anything. Vincent would cease wallowing in the waste of his own making. Even if it took years, he would do whatever he needed to do to _truly_ atone for his sins.

It was in that moment that he realized something in the dimly lit room utterly reeked. Whether it was his own unwashed body, or the rotting corpses in the other caskets, he didn’t know. What he did know was that he wouldn’t linger here anymore. Stepping out of his casket, he felt the shock of the cold floor upon his bare feet. He felt a wave of dizziness, but ignored it as he forced his protesting, stiff body to take slow steps. After years of disuse, he found it difficult to walk properly. There would probably be other things that he found difficult to do, too. But he had time to figure it out, since right now, all he had was time.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

After showering thoroughly in the closest bathroom, he dressed in relatively clean clothes that smelled strongly of mothballs. It wasn’t the most pleasant smell, but at least it didn’t stink of decay. The neutrally colored clothes were normal, meant for a normal civilian man to wear.They were a bit loose on his leanly muscled body, but he didn’t care one way or another  about it as long as they covered his embarrassment of a body.

Now standing in front of a dirty mirror, he stared at a face he barely recognized. The face stared right back at him, both surprised and unimpressed by what was seen. He’d expected to see a much older, lined face, but what he saw was the pale, unblemished face of a young man. And attached to that face were intense eyes like smoldering blood, which only served to further prove that he wasn’t entirely human, if at all. It was his face and yet, it wasn’t. He didn’t know who he saw in the mirror, but it wasn’t Vincent Valentine. It was just as well, since as far as he was concerned, Vincent Valentine had died decades ago.

So what was he going to do? Would he continue to rot away in this crypt, or would he _do_ something? Even if he decided on the latter, he didn’t know what he would do exactly. What could he do? Could he actually change anything? He’d failed to change anything in the past. His own deformed body was proof of that. Remembering what his mutilated body looked like, he was once again reminded of his past failures.

Vincent had failed to protect her and her child. He’d taken a bullet for it and had pretty much died before being ripped apart and molded into the monster that he was now. He would have preferred death to _this_. But here he was, looking as young as he had been decades ago. The only indication of his true age was his unnatural looking eyes. Once a warm, amber brown, they were now the glowing hue of blood. The eyes of someone not quite human; a being twisted into a monster by an even bigger monster...

**...Hojo**.

Suddenly angry with himself and with the cruel doctor, he punched the mirror again and again until it was nothing but a bloody, shattered mess in the sink and on the floor. His right hand stung sharply from the various cuts from the glass, but he paid it little mind and didn’t even notice when the superficial scrapes healed within minutes.

_What are you going to do?_

It was then that _his_ face appeared in his mind, an unforgettable, remarkable face attached to a rich, smooth voice that could light fire in anyone’s belly. And that face, that face he swore he’d seen before, but where? Why was this man, no, this god, so familiar to him? Better yet, why did he have it in his head that this man was a god? He couldn’t fathom the reason why, but just knew it’s what he felt. It was possible the thought kept popping into his head because this stranger had somehow breathed some life back into his corpse.

The words kept echoing in his head, over and over again. What was he going to do? He knew what he wanted to do. He wanted to find that man and find out why he was so familiar to him. Even more that that, he desired to know why this man had looked at him like that, with such raw understanding.

Vincent didn’t know if he would ever see him again. He didn’t know if he could even find him in this world, but he would try. Even if it took him years, he would try...

Glancing down at the mirror fragments, he felt his rage renew itself when he remembered the one that had twisted him into this wretched beast. This damned _thing_ that should have died years ago. He should have died, he shouldn’t even be alive, but here he was.

He was determined now to find the green-eyed man, but first, first Vincent would find Hojo somehow and then get his revenge. Even if it didn’t satisfy a single ounce of his being, he would fulfil his retribution and put a stop to that despicable man before he dared touch anyone else, especially the god-like man with the green eyes.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

**Nibelheim  
**

_The Following Morning_

Bundled up in a warm coat, Vincent tucked his chin behind the collar of the coat as he pulled the hood up. He did this more out of the need to conceal himself than for actual warmth. He could still feel the cold, but it didn’t seem to affect him like it had when he had been a normal man. Nobody on the streets paid him much mind because of this and that’s how he liked it. Since it was early winter, no one would think it was odd for him to hide his face.

As he walked the streets, he found out that the town he was in was called Nibelheim. The people here seemed hard-working and conditioned to bear the cold weather. The people also seemed unsettled and distracted as if something bothersome had occurred. Not that it really mattered since he didn’t plan to stay here long. But it was still good to know that the people were rattled by something.

The light of a flickering television caught his eye, causing him to pause in mid-step. Turning towards the store window, he gazed at the display of televisions. If the compact phones everyone walked around with weren’t proof enough of his decades long sleep, then these advanced flat screen tv’s proved it. It felt surreal, really, like he had traveled to a different time and place. Before he could continue to dwell on the changes of the modern world, the picture of someone startlingly familiar snapped all of his attention.

It was _him_.

On the multiple tv screens flashed the image of the green-eyed man with the captions reading: **_General Sephiroth still at large after allegedly murdering President Shinra two days ago. A manhunt has been issued by the late president’s son, Rufus Shinra, though he has declined to comment on the incident itself. If you or someone you know has any information pertaining to the whereabouts of General Sephiroth, please contact the number provided below._ **

Sephiroth. His name was _Sephiroth_ . He knew that name. Why did he know that name? He’d heard it before. So _when…_?

The image of Sephiroth disappeared to be replaced by a cold-faced man, who was flanked by a handful of what appeared to be Turks, judging by their navy blue suits and guarded faces.Vincent quickly deduced the young, cold-looking man was probably the late president's son, Rufus Shinra, judging by the fact that he looked like a younger version of Shinra Sr. If the kid was anything like his father, then nothing would change for the better. If he was worse, then, well…

**No**.

It wasn’t Vincent’s problem.

As for the Turks, Vincent studied them long enough to know their faces, just in case he ran into them at some point. There were three men and a woman, all young and probably adeptly skilled. He also noticed that one of the men, the dark-haired one, stood closer to Rufus than the rest, which meant he was probably the head Turk. Vincent didn’t recognize any of these Turks, which was just as well. It would be easier to kill them if he had no attachments to them, which was laughable now that he thought about it since he no longer held attachments to anyone. Pretty much everyone he had cared about was long gone from this world. But he knew that didn’t matter at this point. Right now, he needed to focus on what he had to do.

Focusing back on the tv screens, Vincent deduced from the captions on the screens that some of these Turks would be participating in the manhunt to capture Sephiroth. Why they wanted him back alive, he didn’t know, but what he did know was that he had to be the one to find Sephiroth first.

The next image to flash across the screens was _Most Wanted_ images of several members of some terrorist group called _Avalanche_. According to the media, the terrorists were linked to several terrorist attacks resulting in the deaths of many Shinra personal and civilians. Due to some reactors being blown up, people had reacted with mass hysteria, resulting in looting and numerous riots. The Shinra corporation claimed it was utilizing its manpower and assets to capture the persons responsible and to bring peace and prosperity back to the people. And yet, at the same time, Shinra and his lackeys were preoccupied with finding Sephiroth.

Such madness. Of course he would choose _now_ of all times to crawl his ass out of his damned casket. But it couldn’t be helped. There was no going back now. He knew what he had to do.

_What are you going to do?_

Vincent closed his eyes. He was going to find Sephiroth. Hojo could wait. The entire damned planet could wait, too, for all he cared right now.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

**Midgar**

_Two Weeks Later_

Now armed and dangerous, Vincent was growing more frustrated by the day. He was no closer to finding Sephiroth and whatever news aired or was printed, was the fucking same as the day before. He was beginning to wonder if he was just wasting his time trying to find a man that obviously didn’t want to be found.

In the weeks he’d spent searching, the ex-Turk had managed to dig up some information regarding this General. Or should he say, Shinra’s _ex_ -General and former experiment of Hojo. He’d been deemed a success by Hojo and the man had greedily taken credit for him. Just what exactly had he done to Sephiroth? The thought made Vincent bristle to think that Hojo had put others through anything remotely similar to what he’d done to Vincent in the past. Under all that black leather, just how many scars did Sephiroth bear? The thought made him sick to his stomach so he pushed it away. He wouldn’t get anywhere if he let anger get the best of him, he knew.

Not much else was known about the famous Sephiroth except that he was a highly intelligent, strategic soldier with a power unlike any before him. He had been the jewel of Shinra, the beloved posterboy of a monolithic corporation. Every little boy had wanted to be him and every little girl had wanted to marry him. So why had he snapped? If he had been so beloved by all, _what_ had driven him to assassinate the late President? _If_ he was even responsible for the murder of Shinra Sr., that was. For all Vincent knew, Sephiroth could very well be the scapegoat of a hidden, malicious agenda meant to fool the masses.

The gunman also kept thinking about the child Hojo and Lucrecia had created together. The information he'd found indicated that Jenova was Sephiroth's biological parent; however, the more he thought about it, the more he felt that wasn't true. How he knew it wasn’t true, he couldn’t figure out. He just somehow instinctively _knew_.

When exhaustion had wore him to the bone, sleep then claimed him in the booth where he sat, causing him to slump over the table. In his dreams, he saw flashes of Sephiroth, sheathed in flames, his face mirroring pure, unrestrained madness. He also saw another, some foreign humanoid creature immersed in a tank of ominous green liquid. He saw Sephiroth standing before it, staring at it as if transfixed by the thing. Right before the ex-Turk woke up from his nightmares, he saw Lucrecia trapped in her crystal prison, her face reflecting her bottomless sorrow and regret.

As his eyelids fluttered open and body jerked up from his position draped over the table, he suddenly realized why Sephiroth had seemed familiar to him. In his casket, he'd suffered countless nightmares of his sins and of his fears. Some of the visions had involved Sephiroth and in most of them, he remembered the man being lost to the world. He also remembered why the name sparked familiarity within him. It was the name Lucrecia had talked about naming her child. He felt a stab of ice pierce his chest and spread throughout his motionless body. No...it couldn't be. Could it? Was Sephiroth Lucrecia's son? If so, then that most likely meant that he was also Hojo's progeny, too...

Reaching into his coat, he pulled out a picture of Sephiroth and studied it. He could easily catch some of the physical traits of Lucrecia in Sephiroth’s face. Most of them were subtle, but he spotted them nonetheless. That could also be why upon meeting Sephiroth for the first time, the man had looked strangely familiar to him.

Upon closer scrutiny, he could see nothing of Hojo visible in Sephiroth’s beautiful face. He felt relieved that her son didn't appear to bear any traits of that psychopath. Sometimes the child bore only physical traits of one parent and sometimes the child bore no resemblance to either parent. Remembering images of that humanoid creature floating in a tank, he realized Sephiroth bore some resemblance to it. Could that thing be Jenova? He remembered seeing something about a project labeled _The Jenova Project._ He wouldn’t put it past Hojo to use foreign dna from another source for an experiment involving an unborn child. Whatever that thing was, it wasn’t human. Perhaps like the **thing** inside of Vincent, this Jenova had been discovered by one of the scientists. Last time such an event had occurred, he’d lost his father...

Just when Vincent thought he was getting nowhere, a fit girl dressed in a courier’s outfit approached him cautiously to his booth in the bar. Hidden in a dark corner, he was surprised that anyone had found him at all. Drink untouched on the table, he idly wondered if this girl was even old enough to step foot in a seedy establishment like this.

“Vincent Valentine?” Inquired the girl, her voice faltering a bit when she noticed his glowing crimson eyes slicing straight through her. Despite her nervousness, she didn’t back away. She stood her ground as she waited for him to answer her. He had to give her kudos for that, at least.

How she even knew his name, he just couldn’t fathom. Nobody knew him anymore and anyone that could identify him was long since dead or just wouldn’t recognize him anymore. He was a dead relic from another time and he was completely fine with being forgotten.

After a terse, albeit brief silence, Vincent growled, “What do you want?”

“I have a message for you, sir. That’s all. Please take it,” replied the girl, her voice shaky at first but growing firm with more confidence when she realized he probably wasn’t going to shoot her. She slowly extended her arm to him, holding a letter in her gloved hand. When he didn’t take it, she shook it a bit as if to hint that he should take it from her now.

Vincent stared briefly at her impatient hand before locking back onto her stressed face. “From who?”

The girl looked like she wanted to sigh, but held it in due to professionalism. He couldn’t blame her. He’d be annoyed by him, too, if he was her. “I don’t know, sir. I wasn’t told. Our service respects anonymity and confidentiality.”

“Fine. Leave it on the table,” muttered Vincent as he picked up the glass tumbler and took a sip of whatever random shitty drink he’d ordered. He watched her ease the letter carefully down on the table as if she were in the presence of a wild animal. As soon as the sealed letter touched the table, she turned and nearly sprinted out of the bar. Losing interest in the acrid drink, he set it back down as the girl hastily departed.

Picking up the letter, he slowly and gingerly used a knife to cut the envelope open. Slipping the folded letter free, he unfolded it slowly and as he did so, a familiar scent wafted up into his nostrils. Even from their brief meeting weeks ago, Vincent recognized that scent. It was him.

Vincent didn’t realize he’d closed his eyes until he heard a nearby patron coughing, or more like, hacking out a lung from the sounds of it. Opening his eyes, he stared down at the letter, noting the smooth, elegant script that contrasted with Vincent’s memory of his own messy chicken scratch handwriting.

The letter simply read:

_I have something that may be of interest to you. Should you feel compelled to, please meet me at the coordinates provided below, tomorrow at 1800 hours. Don’t be late._

_-S_

No longer in the mood to brood in this foul place, he slipped the letter safely in his inner coat pocket and dropped some money on the table before exiting. Whether this was just some trap, or nothing at all, he would still go. Vincent couldn’t, no, he wouldn’t miss his opportunity to meet him again. For all he knew, this could very well be his only chance to see Sephiroth again.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

**Midgar Docks**

_The Following Evening_

Despite having no intentions of violence, Vincent was well-armed just in case the situation called for it. He’d learned the hard way from his mistake with Hojo to always be armed and ready when confronting anyone or anything. Especially if it was a piece of shit like Hojo. His gun in hand, he approached the warehouse closest to the docks. It looked dilapidated and abandoned, but he knew better. Places like this were often used for illegal activities. It made him wonder what would go down tonight, if anything. Despite his unexplainable, unshakable attachment to a man he didn’t even know, he knew better than to walk in completely blind. He didn’t know Sephiroth, didn’t know what his true motives were. If the rumors were true, he had killed President Shinra and some unlucky troopers that had gotten in his way.

All was silent, except for the rocking of water at the docks and the occasional call of a seabird. Approaching the warehouse with silent steps, Vincent pressed against the wall before peering in through the dirty glass. Seeing nothing particularly dangerous, he carefully and slowly eased the door open before slipping inside the darkness of the place, which was partially illuminated by the moonlight streaming in. Immediately the smell of mold and urine hit him full on, but it still wasn’t as bad as the crypt in Shinra mansion, though it had just as much dust and cobwebs. Glancing around, he noticed the used syringes littered all over the ground along with used condoms, broken beer bottles, and other unsavory debris. This was a drug den then, or at least had previously been one. If anyone had been squatting here earlier, they probably had been forced out by the one he was invited here to meet.

There was a sound, and then a light flickering far off in the giant space of the warehouse. Walking quietly, he was careful not to step on any glass or anything else as he headed for the door that had faint light dancing underneath it. Stopping just a foot away from it, he stared down at the light, pondering if he should knock or try the door-handle. Before he could solve his own dilemma, a voice suddenly decided that for him.

“ _Come in_ ,” spoke the unmistakable, muffled voice that belonged to the one called Sephiroth.

Bracing himself for whatever was on the other side of the door, Vincent breathed in deeply as he used his left hand to open the unlocked door. Once the door was open, he was greeted with the soft light of candles and the almost black looking blood spattered on the floor along with some knocked out teeth. In the middle of the room, lying on the floor on his belly, was a man in a blood-stained lab coat. His dark hair was unbound and a mess, sticking to his sweaty, bloody face.The man looked to be unconscious, his mouth gaping open like a fish as he drooled blood and saliva onto the filthy floor. He looked familiar to Vincent, but it was hard to tell who he was from all the blood, bruises, and grime covering him. The ex-Turk wasn't sure if he should feel pity or sympathy for this broken man. In spite of this, something inside of him was warning him to feel neither. So he didn't. Instead, he turned his sharp gaze to the more appealing person in the room.

"He wouldn't shut that smug mouth of his," explained Sephiroth as he rose smoothly up from the fold out chair he'd been sitting in. With how stiff he appeared, he had most likely been sitting in that uncomfortable chair for hours.

"Who...?"

Sephiroth tilted his head slightly to the side. "You mean to tell me that you don't recognize _him_? Has it really been that long?"

Vincent blinked slowly before looking back down at the man on the floor. Striding over, he used his leather boot to roll the unconscious man onto his back. Hair falling away from his ugly face, the gunman finally realized just who this was.

_Hojo_.

"Is he...?" Started to ask Vincent, feeling a bit disappointed at the prospect of the scientist being dead already. The bitter, angry part of his being wanted Hojo to suffer more than he already had. He wanted to witness it and even better, to participate in it.

"No, not just yet," answered Sephiroth. He smiled slightly at Vincent, something soft in his expression that made the older man want to draw nearer to him. There it was again...that damn understanding look. It made the ex-Turk’s chest tighten with barely restrained emotion. "I was waiting for you."

Vincent could easily think of a thousand reasons why a person would wait for someone else and yet, he couldn’t fathom why Sephiroth would want to wait for _him_ , of all people. He was once again reminded that despite the info that he’d dug up, he still knew next to nothing about this enigmatic man. “Why?”

"Why indeed," echoed Sephiroth faintly, his glowing eyes faraway for a moment. Just as quickly as they’d glazed over, they were once again sharply focused. "That night...I was looking for answers. I needed to know more about my mother, about what I am, but instead...I found you. Well, your files, that is.”

As the AWOL General spoke, he nimbly stepped around Hojo, his booted feet careful to avoid the mess of blood even though his calculating eyes never left Vincent. "All these years I believed I was the only one, that no one else could ever understand, or even grasp what it was like to be me. I was alone. I had no one, nothing, but...then I discovered what _they_ did to you. I read about it, I watched it. They documented everything well, of course."

That definitely explained how Sephiroth had easily recognized him and had known him by name. It also explained why he’d looked at him _that_ way back at the mansion, like they were kindred spirits. Would it be so crazy if it were true? But...if it were, if Sephiroth believed himself to be like Vincent, then that meant the other man also believed himself to be a monster. Something about that bothered the gunman enough to make him question it. Perhaps the reasoning behind it was the longer he stared at that angelic face, the more baffled he felt at the implication that this man was a monster. Despite the blood that was on this man’s hands, it was difficult to view him in the same light as Vincent viewed himself.

Gaze still firmly fixed on the ex-Turk, Sephiroth continued, "The files indicated that you were still in the mansion, discarded like trash after Hojo lost interest. I wanted to meet you face to face, which is why I decided to find you. And I did..."

The crimson-eyed man had never particularly enjoyed being stared at. He’d learned to endure it as a Turk, but truth be told, it had never stopped winding him up like a snake ready to strike. It was ironic because he hated to be judged even though he was his own worst judge. Staring back as unflinchingly as possible, he drawled, "Disappointed?"

Sephiroth slowly shook his head. “Hardly. If anything, I am curious…”

“About?”

“What are you going to do?” Inquired Sephiroth as he began to slowly circle the older man, his arms locked behind his back. Something about it reminded the gunman of a wolf sizing up potential prey. Although the question was directed at him, Vincent couldn’t help wondering what it was _Sephiroth_ was going to do.

Vincent stood stock still, not even flinching when he felt the other man move close behind him, his breath puffing against his neck. It was a simple act, and whether it was intentional or not, it almost instantly caused the crotch of his pants to become tight. Cursing silently, he had to grit his teeth to keep himself from making any noise. When he felt certain he could speak without groaning, he said, “I don’t know what you’re asking…”

The ex-General sighed quietly as he took a step back, his warm breath withdrawing from the other man’s neck. As relieved as Vincent felt from the retreat, he also felt strangely disappointed. “You left your tomb, you came to Midgar, and now you are here, with me, as I arranged. Tell me, Vincent, what did you come here to _do_?”

Vincent stated, “To find you.”

“Why?”

“I wanted to know why you looked at me in that way, like you...understood…” Murmured Vincent as he remembered that particular expression. The same one that had banished him from his own casket just weeks ago. Sephiroth then stepped into view, facing him now instead of standing behind him. All with that damned look of sympathy on his beautiful face.

“We are monsters, you and I. They made us this way, whether we like it or not. There’s nothing we can change about that, but what we can change...is the futures they arranged for us. I believe we can keep each other in check. You are my only equal, the only one capable of countering me lest I lose control. I can, and will do, the same for you,” proposed Sephiroth, his words calm and quiet though they simmered with something akin to passion. The fire that danced in his luminous green eyes threatened to engulf the other man entirely even though he already felt as if he were already caught in a riptide. Even if there was a chance to escape, to break free from this strange hold, would he even want to…?

Before Vincent could fully consider such a proposition, a low groaning could be heard coming from just a few feet away from them. Glancing over his shoulder at the scientist, Sephiroth narrowed his eyes in what appeared to be annoyance. “I nearly forgot about _him…_ ”

Whatever heat that had been simmering in his body vanished the moment Vincent set his gaze on that detestable doctor. “Why is he here?”

“An offering, of sorts,” revealed the silver-haired soldier as he turned to stand beside the gunman, his arm extended towards Hojo in invitation. “For you.”

Vincent watched as Hojo moaned in pain, fully conscious now. The doctor had only one good eye to see out of since the other was black, swollen and shut. Despite not having good vision, the scientist knew he was in hot water so he attempted to pathetically crawl away. He didn’t get far before a booted foot came down hard onto his back, effectively pinning him to the dirty floor. Even if he hadn’t been injured and had been a healthy, fit man, he still wouldn’t have been able to get away from the imposing Sephiroth.

“Don’t be rude, Professor,” warned the green-eyed man, his voice as sharp as a razorblade.

Vincent would have been lying if he had claimed that he didn’t enjoy seeing Hojo at his lowest, unable to even form simple, coherent words.The man had always held such an over inflated opinion of himself while constantly putting others down. To the doctor, everyone else were just imbeciles and could never hope to achieve his level of so-called brilliance. In his high of egotism, Hojo probably never imagined that his successful ‘specimen’ would ever turn on him in this way. It was fitting, actually, and it made the ex-Turk feel some comfort to know that he wasn’t the only person in the world that hated Hojo this much.

In an effort to talk, Hojo gurgled again in pain, more blood and saliva oozing from his busted mouth. His jaw was most likely broken, which was just as well since the insufferable, hateful man loved to hear himself talk.

“Vincent,” spoke Sephiroth, his voice no longer as sharp as before. His cat-like gaze was searching as he continued to watch the older man, as if waiting for something specific.

_What are you going to do?_  

This was Vincent’s chance to get his revenge, to make Hojo pay for everything. But looking at the man, he realized then that there would never be anything he could do to make it all better. It would never bring her back and it would never change what had been done to her son. Nothing now could undo what he’d failed to do and what he had become as a result.

There was no telling just how many lives this deranged man had destroyed over the years, and just how many more he was willing to sacrifice, just for his own madness. Killing Hojo now wouldn’t change the damage that had been already done, but it would prevent more damage from being dealt upon others.

Remembering his forgotten gun still clamped in his right hand, Vincent raised it just high  enough to aim at Hojo’s head. The ex-Turk waited until Hojo lifted his head up a bit to look at him through his one good eye, hate clearly blazing in those dark depths. He remembered that mocking look, the same look the man had given him the day he’d failed to act. The same look he’s given him right before…

**_All I did was watch. I didn’t even try to stop her. And then.._ ** _._

One loud, powerful shot blared, echoing throughout the abandoned warehouse and making nearby birds and other small animals scatter like hell was on their heels.

It was done.

Vincent lowered his gun as he stared at the remnants of a truly evil, psychotic man. Whatever he expected to feel, he didn’t expect this. He felt numb. But such a thing didn’t stop the onslaught of guilty thoughts from bombarding through his tortured mind. He couldn’t help thinking if only he’d done this when he’d had the chance all those years ago. If only he had acted then. Instead of now, Hojo would be dead and Lucrecia would be alive, too. And her son…

The ex-Turk looked at Sephiroth and could no longer deny who this man was to him, and to the woman he’d loved.

The younger man said nothing, just stared at Vincent with a calm acceptance devoid of any judgement. He slowly stretched his left arm out to the older man, his naked hand extended to Vincent, in a silent offering that spoke louder than any words could. Whatever numbness and madness that had begun to assail Vincent, now melted away only to be replaced by a warmth he had believed he would never feel again.

  


~*~*~*~*~*~

 

_Two Days Later_

**Outskirts of Kalm**

He’d discovered pretty quickly early on that Sephiroth was incredibly intelligent and carried stealth in such a way that it made the Turks look like bumbling fools. He was able to avoid detection despite his unique appearance by keeping to the shadows and traveling at night when most people were indoors. Even still, the gunman wondered how long Sephiroth would wear his trademark leathers. As good as it looked on him, and it did look good, especially that teasing cleavage, it wasn’t practical. Most people knew what the renowned General of Shinra looked like. Even if they weren’t fans, Sephiroth’s image was plastered everywhere on buildings, children’s bedroom walls, billboards, and televisions.

Before Vincent could voice his concern about his attire, Sephiroth had beaten him to the punch by sending him on an errand to fetch him normal clothes to wear along with some other supplies. At first, he’d hesitated since he was afraid Sephiroth would be gone by the time he’d returned, but he jerked himself out of his irrationality. Taking the money, he left and returned a few hours later to discover Sephiroth still patiently waiting for him. The sight had made him smile while warmth flooded his chest once again. If he wasn’t careful, he would get used to this..

For two days, they'd traveled at night and took shelter someplace secluded during the day to avoid detection. The first night, Vincent didn't sleep for fear of waking up and finding the younger man gone. He was aware that it was an irrational fear because if Sephiroth really wanted to leave him, he could easily disappear again without a trace. But after realizing the soldier wasn’t going to ditch him, the gunman allowed himself an occasional nap.  

Sephiroth didn't sleep much, if at all, either. The man closed his eyes at times, as if to rest, but it never seemed like real sleep to Vincent. His eyes never moved rapidly like he was experiencing Rem Sleep **.** It was possible he was taking short cat naps, just enough to get some rest. The man had been a soldier, after all. He was probably used to sleeping for short periods of time whether it was by standing or sitting somewhere cramped and uncomfortable.

When they stopped to take cover and rest, he found himself thinking about what happened after he’d killed Hojo. Right after they had exited the abandoned warehouse, Sephiroth had set fire to it and they had both stood silently for several minutes watching it burn. He remembered watching Sephiroth more than the fire itself. Seeing him standing near fire distinctly reminded Vincent of his own nightmares of the man cloaked in it; however, when Sephiroth turned around to look at him, there was no madness in his face. He just looked...

_Beautiful_.  

It was in that moment that he wanted to reach out and touch him. To take his face in his hands and kiss and touch him in any way he’d let him. But he didn't, of course. It turned out there was still some of his old timid, cowardly self still left within him, unfortunately. He was once again reminded that he didn't deserve someone like that, even if Sephiroth wanted it from him. But why would he?

The past two days, neither man spoke much, if at all. Like Vincent, Sephiroth didn’t find the need to fill in the silence with unnecessary chit-chat. He appeared to be someone that spoke mostly only when he had something to say. The ex-Turk liked that, but not in this instance. There was things unspoken between them, things they needed to discuss, he felt. And yet, Vincent chose not to break the silence, either. Despite wanting to know more, he was content to allow Sephiroth to be the first one to break the silence.

During those quiet days, Vincent had plenty of time to not only stare at the man leading him, but to think about him and what had transpired since his awakening. He remembered his words, about them being monsters, about them being able to counter the other. He also wondered what Sephiroth’s true motives were. His proposition had implied that he wanted the ex-Turk around, but in what way and for how long?

Vincent had achieved what he’d set out to do. He’d killed Hojo and found Sephiroth. So what now? The Shinra Corporation and the related terrorist attacks didn’t concern him...unless it concerned Sephiroth, of course. It sounded selfish and apathetic of him, but what went on in the world really didn’t concern him one way or the other. The only thing he felt obligated to do now was to protect the younger man. It was laughable, really, considering how powerful and intelligent Sephiroth was. And yet…

Under the stoic surface of that green-eyed man, Vincent sensed that he was actually needed by Sephiroth. It felt good, _right_ , to be needed by someone again. It gave him a solid purpose to strive for, instead of continuing to wallow uselessly in guilt and self-pity. He deeply regretted not doing anything when he’d had the chance. He could have done something,  anything...besides nothing. The gunman could have objected more loudly or could have shot Hojo in the head before he could subject an unborn child to such unforgivable cruelty. There were so many things he could have done back then, he knew. What he also knew now was that the never ending triade of _what ifs_ would never help anything. Vincent had to stop living in the past and torturing himself if he wished to move on forward. And he did. He really wanted to live again, if he could.

If he truly wanted to atone for what he believed was his sin, then he could do it by protecting Sephiroth. He’d ultimately failed Lucrecia, and he’d failed Sephiroth, too. That he couldn’t change. But what he could change was what he did now and in the future.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

_The Following Day_

At this point, Vincent had no idea where they were right now, but knew they were in some forest. A forest that although still inhabited by wildlife and green with plant life, it had obviously seen better days. Along the way from Midgar, he’d noticed how barren the countryside was, as if the animal and plant life had been sucked dry. Apparently there was some truth to Avalanche’s propaganda about Shinra’s reactors draining the planet of its resources, after all.

Sephiroth looked over his shoulder at the older man as they continued their trek through the quiet forest. “I’m surprised that you haven’t asked me yet where we’re headed to…”

“Of all the things I’d like to ask, that one surprisingly concerns me the least,” Vincent asked truthfully.

The younger man ceased walking, his back to Vincent. “What concerns you the most?”

“What do you want from me?” Questioned Vincent as he approached the stationary man. Although the other man’s eyes weren’t on him, he knew that he had the ex-General’s complete undivided attention.

Sephiroth simply answered, “Everything.”

He stopped walking when he was just inches away from making contact with the other man’s body. Close to Sephiroth now, he could inhale his unique, masculine scent and feel the heat radiating off a body that surely must have been built for sin. A body he’d spent days staring at as they’d traveled, often imagining what he looked like without his clothes on. He’d honestly imagined a lot of things he probably shouldn’t, yet he was still a man, even if he was a freak of a man. He had thought he’d lost all traces of his humanity years ago, but he was finding that the more he was around Sephiroth, the more human he felt again.

Vincent began to raise his hand, the very human impulse to touch guiding him, but he dropped it just as soon as he’d raised it. He sighed in frustration, “That’s really...vague…”

The ex-General chuckled low. “Is it?”

“I don’t know what that means.”

“Do you remember what I said to you in the warehouse?” Asked Sephiroth as he continued to stare ahead at the sun slowly sinking through the trees. It would be dark soon.

Vincent nodded.

“What do you think I meant by it?”

The gunman watched as the falling sun caused Sephiroth’s hair to glitter like diamonds. “I’ve been trying to figure that out…”

In a matter of seconds, Sephiroth whirled around and grabbed him before bodily slamming him against the closest tree, effectively knocking the wind right out of his lungs. A muscular thigh wedged itself hard between his legs while a broad chest helped keep him pinned against the tree. The younger man’s face loomed close to Vincent’s, his glowing malachite eyes brighter now as the world began to bathe itself in darkness. Yanking the gunman’s coat collar down, he leaned closer to lick a slow, hot trail up his neck and to his jaw until he reached his ear. His thigh slowly moved, the hard flesh rubbing torturously at the ex-Turk’s groin. Despite himself, he felt his half-hard cock harden even more as the other man growled low in his ear, “Do you get it now?”

Instead of verbally answering him, Vincent seized him by the jaw and forced his head up. Tilting his head, he crushed their mouths together as he rolled his hips, not the least bit concerned with just how shameless he appeared grinding against the younger man. He grunted when Sephiroth kissed him back just as hot and heavy, his mouth far from passive as he pulled his thigh away to replace it with his hips. The gunman latched a hand onto the other man’s ass, forcing him closer to him as they ground their hips together, the sweet friction causing them to groan into each other’s ravenous mouths.

Breaking the kiss to breathe, his lungs burning from lack of oxygen, Vincent panted, “Where...are we going?”

“You ask that...now, of all times?” Inquired the younger man, his face buried against the gunman’s neck. Vincent could feel him smile against his neck, clearly amused by the ex-Turk.

“I meant that in more than one way...”

“Well…” trailed Sephiroth as he raised his head to look at Vincent, a hint of a smirk on his wet, swollen lips. His hands slid down between them and within moments, he had unbuckled and unzipped the gunman’s pants. His left hand slipped inside to carefully, yet firmly grasp the other man’s erect dick in hand. “Right now, we’re not going anywhere. Tomorrow, we’ll go wherever it is we’re going. It all doesn’t have to be decided right now and here. We’ll work everything out as we go. Think you can accept that?”

“I can accept that,” said Vincent, his voice hoarse and his head light as a feather. Sephiroth’s words and his touches were liberating, making him realize that for once, he didn’t have to think about anything. He could just feel what he wanted to, in this present moment, without any fears or regrets to hold him back.

And as Vincent regarded Sephiroth, he strongly suspected that the other man felt the same.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~


End file.
